if the only way you know how to criticize my handling of Lea is to somehow blame Merry and also Trans Women™️ as a whole then i’m going to be honest: your criticisms are not going to be the ones i listen to. it’s very strange to me now that both times i’ve had people specifically bring up Merry when talking about Lea and also follow it up with, and i quote: “people only care about trans women.” this monolithic Trans Women you keep blaming has nothing to do with the decisions i’ve made about Lea, and i’m begging you to think for like 2 seconds and realize what you are saying and how you sound right now. i’m not even trying to change your mind or your feelings regarding Lea, that conversation has been had many times over at this point, but you have got to stop blaming trans women for.... being more oppressed than you ? come on
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my grandmas mother in law was straight from england, and she taught her how she made tea. my grandma taught my mom, and my mom taught me so when i was younger i always learned to put an obscene amount of milk in my tea . and then i learned that tea without milk is like 100 times better. i felt so lied to. earl grey and english breakfast need honey and a bit of nutmeg and that’s IT
THE BETRAYAL HELLO??????????????????
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Heavy, beuatiful bracelets
I have always had two bracelets on my wrists They are a bit heavy, and a bit sharp I think that’s how they’re supposed to be
My mom and dad also have bracelets Shiny, colorful, beautiful bracelets just like my own They don’t ever mention the bracelets being too sharp or heavy They seem to like the bracelets a lot
I think I’m supposed to like my bracelets
Even tho their weight makes my arms sore And their shiny edges dig into my wrists Not all the time though Probably not enough times to complain about
I tried taking off my bracelets one day I hid my arms in long sleeves and put the bracelets in my pockets Only for a minute tho I liked that minute
I took my bracelets off at when I hung out with my friends I don’t think anyone noticed Nobody asked why I didn’t want the bracelets on It was nice
I took my bracelets off at school I wore long sleeves that day
Would anybody care?
It took my bracelets off at school again Nobody cared
Why am I supposed to wear bracelets if I feel more happy without them? Why am I supposed to wear bracelets if I feel safer without them Why do I feel bad for taking them off, when they’ve hurt me so much?
Now I only wear the bracelets at home At home where everyone has bracelets At home where I realize how much my hands hurt At home where I wish the bracelets never existed in the first place At home where I’m supposed to feel home
I threw my bracelets in the trash today Now I can see two red scars that I never noticed before
I think they’ll heal
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i miss his shoes by the back door, his toothbrush on the sink, his masks on the shelf, his camera on the dresser, his suitcase in the corner and his chargers plugged in next to the bed. i miss his switch controllers sitting on the mantel and the cup of water he forgot in the kitchen. im laying in the bed he slept in like i did for the past few days and it feels like he’s down the hallway in the shower again but i don’t hear the water running. at least the airplane can’t take away his shampoo
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This is so dumb but as someone whos kind of a loser and doesnt have many people and nobody shows any romantic interest in me ever this boy passed me by in the street and was smiling at me n’ all and i was like 🫠🫣🫡
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Living with other nerodiverget ppl is awesome until the nerodivergancy happens to get spicy for everyone ON THE SAME DAY, and suddenly, the house is in chaos
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i want to be a contained anomaly:
i don’t think there’s much more to say outside of that.
with each passing day i find my half-life cut shorter: there is something
toxic in the waste expelled from my mouth. it’s radiating out from me; vector at my
ribcage—something harsh and melancholy and
a fraction too heavy for my skin. i exist in cycles. i exist
in gelatinous half-form. when i cry now i feel the surface tension
threaten to, but never truly break—do you think my mother knew? when she
found me in the guest room? crying into marinara sauce? do you think she
knew i would come to this?
i don’t think that i am built for the kind of vulnerability needed to
be something that exists in another sphere of reason. i don’t know if
it’s possible to be typical in the ways that i
need to be to exist. i’ll always be
eight feet off the ground. i’ll always be
hiding in a room that isn’t mine. i’ll always be existing in that warm dark morning: the irradiated glow of
the night.
threatening to—
never breaking.
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